Horologe ⚚ [Maximum Ride/Black Butler]

Chapter I

WARNING: the first chapter is really old & unedited unlike the others, beware.
Notice: I don't own Maximum Ride, nor Black Butler /3\

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Max's POV

Sweat trickled down the side of my face as I pummelled an Eraser's face in with as much strength as I had, trying to ignore the cameras observing me left, right, and centre. Damn whitecoats. Recording every little thing I do.

By the way, in case you were wondering, I was currently located in the fiery pits of hell. AKA, the School.

Well, the School's field to be exact. You know, the one where they let their bloodthirsty, steroid-induced, I-will-freaking-tear-you-to-shreds Erasers run loose. Yeah. It wasn't exactly pleasant, I can assure you.

Not to mention the Flock, my family, had disappeared to god-knows-where, and I hadn't the foggiest clue whether they were someplace safe, or right smack dab in the middle of danger. It was fucking horrible. Excuse my language.

Delivering a swift round-house kick to an Eraser on my right, putting some more distance between me and the upcoming wolf-thing, I promptly did a backflip (like a freaking ninja) off the now bleeding-excessively Eraser that I had gracelessly pummelled. He was now another addition to my growing collection of unconscious, half-dead Erasers to which I left for the crows to come and pick all their brains out. Not like they had any in the first place, that is.

I was now pretty exhausted - wait, no, make that extremely exhausted, being deprived of water and my required 3000-4000 calories for approximately two and a half days. This fight was really burning me out. And yet, there still was a seemingly-limitless amount of Erasers to come.

If there wasn't an electrocuted dome covering this goddamn field, I would've flied the hell outta here by now. But sadly, it just doesn't work that way. No, because the whitecoats have to go ahead, and make everything harder for me. Inconsiderate bastards.

With a sigh, I hardened my gaze, getting into a fighting stance as around five or six more Erasers hurdled towards me. However, just as I was about to get my face clawed off, a loud, whistle-like noise rang throughout the field, making all the Erasers in it freeze. They then suddenly turned away from me, and sprinted off towards the direction of the whistle, completely forgetting my utter existence, much to my relief.

Apparently, play time was over.

Alleluia.

I allowed myself to catch my breath, my legs shaky from running so much.

That was when I felt a sharp pain in my upper thigh, almost like a-

I dropped to the floor almost immediately, my vision hazy and clouded. Sleeping dart, I thought, just as I blacked out.

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When I woke up, I found myself strapped to a chair, alone, in an all-dark room, apart from a light shining down in my face. Squeezing my eyes from the brightness, I tried to get as good of a view as possible, expecting to see needles and vials of medicine or something stashed away somewhere. Surprisingly, there weren't any at all. Which was a bit of a shocker, considering how the whitecoats are all demented, experiment-obsessed freakazoids.

I swallowed what little saliva I had left in my mouth, wondering what the whitecoats could possibly have in store for a little bird-girl like me.

The door creaked opened, a certain sneaky, evil, moustached little weasel walking in.